


Sickly Me

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sick!Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3080576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is the epitome of health. Will can't remember even hearing a single sniffle from the man in the time they've known each other. Hannibal prides himself on maintaining appearances, but when he is hit by a nasty flu, Will is the only one he trusts to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sickly Me

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not set in any particular canon-time/episode, except that this is before Will realizes what Hannibal is, goes to jail etc, so he's relatively naive in the story.
> 
> I wasn't sure what Rating would be most accurate. If you feel the M rating is incorrect, let me know and I'll adjust.

Will knocked on the door and rushed into Hannibal's office without awaiting a reply. He was already out of breath, his heart racing from his run down the street and up the steps. Will had gotten caught up in a case and the parking was terrible, forcing Will to park in pay-per-day underground parking garage three blocks away. Hannibal did not appreciate tardiness; Will knew this, and he had never been late for an appointment before.

 

"I'm sorry I'm—" the apology caught in Will's throat as the room struck him like running face first into a brick wall.

 

A fire was in the fireplace but in danger of smouldering, not recently tended. Only the fire's light and the lamp on Hannibal's desk lit up the encroaching shadows. Hannibal was in the seat he always chose across from Will when they had these late-evening sessions. Normally Hannibal sat at his desk making notes or sketching until Will arrived.

 

However, the most unsettling part was that Hannibal had not reacted to the sound of the knock, the door closing, or Will's voice halting. His head was tilted back slightly against the wood framing the backrest of the chair. Hannibal's hair was slightly askew while it was normally gelled neatly in place. The worst was that from this angle, Will couldn't see if Hannibal was breathing.

 

 _No, no, please no_ , he silently begged, rooted in place. _Not another crime scene. Not Hannibal as the centrepiece_.

 

 _Anything but that_.

 

Will forced his feet forward as he rounded the chair and pressed two fingers to Hannibal's neck. The skin was clammy but Will managed to catch a fluttering heartbeat before something caught him in return. Hannibal's hand, specifically. Will winced as the large hand clamped around his wrist and squeezed, dragging his touch away from Hannibal's neck. The scariest thing was that Will _knew_ there had to be something wrong, because Hannibal's grip faltered and grew weak.

 

"Hannibal." Will was able to pry his wrist from Hannibal's fingers and he massaged the reddened skin with his other hand as he spoke a little louder. " _Hannibal_."

 

At the sound of Will's voice, Hannibal's eyes drifted open. Only to half-mast though, and the irises were foggy. "Will?"

 

"I'm so late you fell asleep?" Will wondered, though a twisting in his gut told him it was more than that. He had never witnessed Hannibal willingly leaving himself in a position of such vulnerability before. "I'm sorry," he apologized again, just because he felt like it was the polite thing to do.

 

"No apology necessary," Hannibal said. The twitch of his lips made Will think that he was trying – and failing – to put on a warm smile. "What time is it?"

 

"Five minutes after eight," Will said. He knew he was hovering but he didn't know what to do with himself; what he was allowed to do. "Are you alright?"

 

"I'm afraid I feel slightly under the weather," Hannibal admitted. Even though Hannibal was awake, his body was still sagging back into the chair like any movement would require far too much effort. "I cancelled my afternoon appointments to rest."

 

"You didn't call me," Will tried to keep his tone from edging into accusatory territory. "I wouldn't have come. You should be home."

 

"In times of sickness, one can only seek out comfort," Hannibal mused.

 

Will huffed. "Yeah, well I'm sure your bed would've been more comfortable than the armchair."

 

Hesitantly he stepped closer, hand raised for inspection the way he would approach a stray dog that was scared, hungry, and unknown. Hannibal regarded his hand for a moment before his gaze lingered on Will's face. "Perhaps."

 

When he didn't receive any objection, Will pressed his palm against Hannibal's forehead. The fever was obvious and concerning. As was the sickly pallor of Hannibal's skin, made worse by the bruises under his normally-alert eyes. "You shouldn't have stayed just for me," he chided quietly as he pulled his hand back. He felt a little embarrassed making such a bold assumption, but he also knew he was right.

 

Hannibal did not correct him. "It has already been a week, and I found myself uninterested in waiting for another week to pass."

 

Will rolled his eyes. "I didn't even have any interesting cases to talk about this week anyway."

 

"Irrelevant."

 

This was getting a bit ridiculous. Will knew Hannibal wasn't deathly ill, but he was quite certain that resting at home would speed his recovery much more effectively than dozing in his office chair. "Well now you've seen me so you can go home and take care of yourself like you're supposed to."

 

"But then I would be bereft of fifty six minutes of conversation time," Hannibal said. Will could imagine an internal stopwatch clicking into action in Hannibal's mind the moment Hannibal's eyes locked on Will in front of him. "And I may require some assistance. I feel slightly weakened."

 

"Is it the fever making you needlessly coy?" Will asked. "If you want me to come back and help out just say so." They had always been honest with each other – as honest as they were both capable of being – and it was one of the aspects of their relationship he valued most.

 

Hannibal pursed his lips and then made up his mind. "I would appreciate your company. It has been a long time since I have felt this sick and... frail."

 

"You make it sound like you're dying," Will tried to make light of the situation to hide the quiver he felt in his chest. From what he did understand of Hannibal's nature, the man was meticulous about maintaining an air of calm and intelligent strength. Admitting weakness was not something he would do thoughtlessly. When Will felt the horrible sensation of his cheeks heating up, he turned from the chair to douse the fire in preparation for their exit.

 

Hannibal was still in the chair when Will returned. In fact, he looked to be in danger of falling asleep again. Will rested a light hand on Hannibal's shoulder and gave a small smile when Hannibal's eyes hovered on him tiredly. He shook Hannibal's shoulder to rouse him. "Time to go."

 

Hannibal touched Will's forearm and Will bore his weight as Hannibal stood, ready to steady him. Even with both feet under him, Hannibal continued to lean on Will's shoulder. This close Will could hear the shallowness of his breath and could remember the frantic pace of his pulse. They made their way out to Hannibal's car and Hannibal relinquished the keys without argument.

 

Will had been to Hannibal's house a few times previously and knew the route. He didn't take offense when Hannibal fell asleep with his cheek pressed against the cool passenger-side window, hair becoming messier as he slumped down. Waking Hannibal was harder the second time, Hannibal noticeably dizzy and out of sorts. That fact was proven when halfway up the steps to the front door, Hannibal leaned over the railing and vomited into the hedges.

 

Will winced, but not in disgust. He had taken care of himself for years, plus the puke that always followed one of his dogs swallowing something they shouldn't on one of their walks outside. "Apologies," Hannibal began.

 

"Don't bother," Will patted his back and used the key ring still in his possession to get the front door open. Hannibal looked more affronted by his own body's treachery than Will was, but he said nothing else on the matter as Will led him inside. "Bed would probably be the best option," Will suggested. "Have you eaten?"

 

"No." The mention of food seemed to turn Hannibal greener as he peeled off his light jacket and set it on the banister; another sign that he was ill if Hannibal couldn't be bothered to hang the jacket up in the hall closet.

 

"I don't suppose you have any canned soup in the house." Hannibal looked offended at the suggestion. "Well I'm not as good of a cook as you so I can only make the basics."

 

"Basics are all I require," Hannibal promised with an unsteady smile. "What can you prepare without burning down my kitchen?"

 

Will laughed and shrugged out of his own coat. He hung both up in the closet just because he knew it would bother Hannibal if they remained out of place. "It'll take too long to make soup from scratch. How about eggs and toast?"

 

"That sounds passable," Hannibal teased. He had slowly moved to lean against the banister, but pushed himself back onto his feet to move towards the kitchen.

 

Will stopped him at the base of the stairs. "Go shower and brush your teeth. You'll feel better." Will could see where a cold sweat on Hannibal's skin caused his shirt to cling to his body. He saw Hannibal's eyes flicker from Will to the kitchen doorframe and back, deliberating. "It's just eggs and toast," he said, exasperated.

 

Hannibal seemed to come to a silent decision in his own head and appeared uninterested in sharing the inner dialogue with Will. Instead Hannibal tilted his head in consent and walked slowly up the stairs and out of sight. It was only when Will walked into the kitchen alone, Hannibal not two paces behind or ahead of him, that Will was hit with how much trust Hannibal was showing him. This kitchen was Hannibal's domain. It was not a place where Hannibal would give just anyone free reign.

 

Not wanting to take advantage, Will avoided snooping. The toaster and butter were tucked away on a counter, the eggs in the fridge, and the loaf of bread set on a side shelf. It was easy to find the skillet since he had watched the calming procedure of Hannibal cooking meals before, and the high-tech stovetop was only mildly baffling.

 

He heard the distant thunder of a shower's spray while he poured the eggs into the skillet and used a spatula he had found in one of the drawers to move them around. The eggs were nearly done when Will heard feet slowly descending on the stairs. Will looked up and lost his grip on the spatula when his eyes landed on Hannibal. Because Hannibal was barefoot, hair wet and pushed carelessly from his face, and in a robe.

 

 _Only a robe_.

 

Will could make out a few chest hairs at the V of the deep navy blue robe where the fabric wrapped together. Will opened his mouth to speak but there was nothing to say. He closed his mouth so quickly his teeth clacked together. Will gave a grunt and knelt down to pick up the spatula from the ground. Hannibal was leaning against the fridge, watching him. It looked like the shower had woken him slightly. "There are three more of various sizes in the first drawer on your left."

 

"Right, uh, thanks." Will dropped the first spatula into the sink, wiped up the egg on the floor with a towel, and then washed his hands before grabbing a new spatula. He pushed around the eggs to ensure they didn't burn, his eyes focused on his task. Only on his task. Not on damp skin and a hint of chest hair. Definitely not that. "How do you like your eggs?"

 

Will was so focused on _not_ looking at Hannibal that he didn't realize the man had moved until Hannibal was standing right behind him. "However you like them," Hannibal said agreeably.

 

"Hanni—" Will's voice cut off suddenly when he felt a hand lightly rest on his hip. Hannibal's touch caused Will's entire body to tense like he had been hit with lightning. Even after the initial shock every inch of Will's skin beneath his clothes tingled, keening for attention. Will was aware of Hannibal leaning closer, nose and mouth hovering over the bare skin of his neck and breathing in deeply.

 

This wasn't the first time Hannibal had breathed in his scent. It had almost become commonplace; something Will would expect from Hannibal in their moments of shared proximity. But this was _different_. Hannibal was dressed only in a robe. His fever-flushed skin was radiating heat that Will could certainly feel against his back. Will could smell Hannibal's shampoo. It was all so intimate, and Will's desire to lean back against Hannibal was startling. "Hannibal," Will said again, firmer this time.

 

Hannibal hummed but otherwise did not withdraw. In a search for some form of normalcy, Will brought the spatula back to the eggs to prod them a few more times and then turned down the heat. Then he closed his eyes because now it felt even more intimate... domestic, even. "What are you doing?"

 

Will could feel Hannibal's warm breath ghosting over the bare skin of his neck. "What I wish to do."

 

Will was at war with himself. Who was at fault here? Was it Hannibal for overstepping professional boundaries, or Will for letting him? He imagined the looks of disapproval he would get from Jack or Alana. What would Hannibal think when he woke from his fever and realized how he had acted? When he realized Will had not dissuaded him? It opened up too many questions Will had no interest in answering. The nature of heat and yearning born from fantasies better left locked away in a twisted subconscious.

 

Feeling jittery and uncertain, Will side-stepped out of Hannibal's proximity under the guise of grabbing two plates and glasses from a cupboard. When he turned back a moment later, Will caught a predatory look in Hannibal's eyes. He was abruptly overtaken by the feeling of being stalked like prey through a forest dense with tricky pitfalls. He thought he had seen that fire in Hannibal's eyes before but it had always faded fast enough that Will second-guessed himself. It did not fade tonight.

 

Will wondered if this was Hannibal's true nature, inhibitions and carefully-displayed mask stripped down by the fever. A man who wanted strongly and relentlessly pursued his desires, not to be easily shaken off. Will felt a chill run down his spine but he didn't feel the urge to run, which was more confusing than anything else. Hannibal did not approach a second time though; simply observed.

 

To give his hands something to do, Will slotted bread into the toaster and divvied up the eggs between two plates. At Hannibal's request he filled both glasses with water and dashed some pepper over the eggs. By then the toast was ready and on both plates. Hannibal was still watching, silent and unwavering. "Dining room?" Will asked.

 

"Somewhere more comfortable tonight, I think," Hannibal said and took both glasses of water, leaving the plates for Will to carry as he followed. Hannibal led them into his study. There was no fire crackling in the hearth but the room was still warm and comfortably lit. Will would've asked if Hannibal was sure about this; Hannibal had always shown deep dislike at the idea of eating food anywhere but at a table. But Hannibal gave a flourish to the armchairs so Will didn't argue.

 

They ate in silence. It felt slightly uncomfortable, but only because it felt like there were a lot of words being left unsaid hanging in the air. Hannibal only ate half of his eggs and the toast but Will didn't take offence. He cleared his own plate and then took both back out into the kitchen to wash and put in the drainer to air dry. Hannibal had followed again but kept his distance by the fridge. His predatory look had mellowed under his exhaustion.

 

"I think you'd look better horizontal right now."

 

"You think so?" The purr behind Hannibal's words had Will fumbling with the hand towel he was using to dry his hands. Hannibal spoke again before Will could even figure out how to react. "I apologize. I am making you uncomfortable."

 

"It's... it's fine," he said, and it was. Will wasn't exactly opposed to any of this – though he struggled to understand how someone like Hannibal would experience even a morsel of interest in someone like him. Will was just unwilling to show the entirety of his hand for fear that when Hannibal's fever passed, it would come to light that these tentative feelings Will had been harbouring were one-sided. "Rest would do you good," he suggested. "I can head out."

 

"I would... prefer you stayed." Each of Hannibal's words were carefully chosen and placed in a row for Will to judge and react to as he saw fit. The open honesty on Hannibal's face helped Will find his answer.

 

"Alright."

 

Will realized that no matter how bizarre the thought was, it was easier to handle this with Hannibal in a robe. Hannibal was, quite literally, disrobed of any and all falsities he portrayed to the world. If Hannibal was still dressed to the nines – silk tie and waistcoat, gelled hair, gold cufflinks – Will would be even more hung up on how mismatched they appeared to be from an outsider view. Hannibal: an accomplished, respected man in any field that caught his interest, brilliantly sharp, disarmingly warm and charming when he wished to be.

 

And then there was Will. Stumbling through the majority of his life alone, shunned from the world for good reason. Skilled in certain areas, certainly, but nothing that made people look at him with any lessening degrees of concern, pity or fear. Hannibal didn't look at Will like that; it was why Will wasn't shying away from the sometimes-obvious advances Hannibal made when he thought Will was feeling least skittish. Anyone else Will would reject before he would risk handing over his heart and being cast aside. Hannibal was different.

 

But...

 

Every negative thought inside him melted away when a warm hand held the back of his neck. Palm against the knobs of his cervical spine, fingers following the curve of his throat, hand tucked neatly beneath Will's messy curls. Will hadn't realized how lost in his own insecurities he had become until Hannibal's touch awoke him again. "Tell me your fears."

 

"What would people think?" the question slipped past his lips before he had decided if he was willing to voice it or not. _Charity case_ , his mind supplied readily, making him grimace.

 

Hannibal's thumb rubbed against the base of Will's skull and Will felt his body sagging. "Is that important to you?" Will hesitantly met Hannibal's gaze. What he saw there made his heart miss a beat. "It is not important to me."

 

Will knew Hannibal was sick and contagious. Knew, and didn't care. His body angled forward, stopped short, and moulded against Hannibal when Hannibal closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together. Hannibal's hand remained at the back of Will's head, keeping him close, and Will decided that he wouldn't move away for anything. Will wouldn't mind sharing a sickness with Hannibal if they were engulfed together.

 

Still, he couldn't ignore the feverish heat of Hannibal's lips. "Promise me this isn't just the fever," he demanded against Hannibal's lips.

 

"I promise you that I have envisioned doing this since the first time we met," Hannibal spoke sincerely. "I called out your dislike of eye contact," Hannibal remembered, his words taking Will back to the same moment. "You admitted your tendency to avoid eye contact in the same breath as you met my gaze strongly and challenged me."

 

"You smiled," Will thought he remembered, though the memory was hazy.

 

"That was because I wanted to meet you challenge and pull you closer, claim you right there." Will sucked in an unsteady breath. "However, we were not alone and, more importantly, I knew you would not be receptive."

 

"You bided your time?" Will wondered, feeling a bitter taste fill his mouth.

 

"No," Hannibal assured him before Will's assumptions could sour the warmth filling his body with each passing second he spent in Hannibal's embrace. "I enjoyed any time with you that you permitted."

 

"You look at me like a conquest." He wanted it to sound like an accusation, but his words weren't harsh enough. It was nice to feel wanted, after all.

 

"Because you are precious," Hannibal said. His fingers teased the shorter hairs at the back of Will's neck and Will felt himself shiver. "But because of that, I care more about where you want this relationship to go than my own hopes."

 

Hannibal had never spoken so candidly before, to Will's knowledge. He knew there was still a lot about Hannibal he didn't know, ghosts hidden behind practiced societal norms. Anything requiring such dedicated effort to hide away had to be monstrous. But Will wasn't entirely certain if he'd mind. After all, there was a monster inside him as well, alone until he had met Hannibal.

 

Hannibal seemed to realize that Will was wavering. "The only way I can think to prove it is to promise that I will step away if you tell me to."

 

"Step away." He was too curious to miss the opportunity.

 

Although he felt the twitch of Hannibal's hand on the back of his neck – an instinctive urge to fight an order he disliked – Hannibal withdrew three full paces backwards. Despite the removal of his body, Hannibal's eyes did not look away. Will stood alone only long enough to feel an unnatural chill of being without something vital. He knew it was in his head; the room itself was not cold. That didn't stop Will from pursuing Hannibal and slotting himself into Hannibal's personal space.

 

It took Hannibal's arms winding around him to hold him in a tight embrace for Will's world to realign. "Make me see the way you see me."

 

Hannibal bared his crooked teeth in a pleased and encouraging smile. "It will be my pleasure," he said. Will shivered again, pressing closer. His hands gripped the lapels of Hannibal's robe. The tips of his fingers teased warm skin and chest hair. Hannibal's arms held him tighter until it felt wonderfully hard to breathe. "I'm afraid it may need to wait until I am recovered but for now another kiss should suffice."

 

Hannibal was a little over an inch taller than him. Still, Will angled his back in a way to drop his height an extra inch. He sighed in pleasure when Hannibal pursued him and slotted their lips together easily. Will tilted his head and met the kiss while he splayed his hands across Hannibal's bare clavicles. It felt good to feel wanted in this way by a man so complex and praised, and yet so similar to Will in the most primal facets of their nature. As Will gave into the kiss, throwing away his fears and uncertainties, it felt like he would float away if Hannibal let go, and he was all the more elated when Hannibal simply held him closer.

 

"Come to bed." Hannibal's voice was gruff when the kiss broke. It reminded Will that Hannibal was sick and, now that he had been a complete idiot himself, he would likely wake up sick twelve hours from now. The fear that this development with Hannibal was something he would lose once the moment slipped between their fingers had Will wanting to protest, but then he remembered that they had felt connected long before their lips found their matching puzzle piece.

 

He and Hannibal turned off the lights as they made their way together from the kitchen and upstairs. Will knew Hannibal had a guest room always prepared and available but he didn't ask about it when Hannibal led him into his own bedroom with a warm hand on Will's lower back. Will didn't need intuition to know this was Hannibal's bedroom; the man's natural smell enveloped him welcomingly as soon as he stepped inside.

 

Hannibal had, in fact, been wearing underwear under his robe, but as the navy material slid away the rest of his strong, toned body was available for Will's viewing pleasure. Will felt self-conscious as he stripped down to his own underwear, but the heat of Hannibal's gaze taking in every inch of his form was enough to brush aside his qualms. It helped that even after he was cocooned in shadows and both of them were fully aware that they were not up to pursuing anything more physical with Hannibal fighting his flu, Hannibal sought Will beneath the blankets and only settled when he was curled up around Will's back.

 

"I'll probably wake you with a nightmare," Will warned, even though it was pointless. No one knew the details of Will's nightmares as intimately as Hannibal. Eventually their evening sessions had felt comfortable rather than forced and Will had realized he was right in assuming Hannibal would not react negatively to the grotesque creations of Will's subconscious.

 

"I would prefer that so I could assist you in calming your mind afterwards."

 

Will considered rolling his eyes but it would be pointless in the dark. That, and with Hannibal's nose nuzzling the back of his neck, the sentiment didn't see quite as stupid as if someone else had said the words. It wasn't challenging to imagine demons fleeing from Hannibal. Will said nothing more in protest and his original concerns were proven unnecessary when he slept more soundly than he could remember in the majority of his adult life.

 

The next morning he knew he was sick by the first swallow that felt like glass was lodged in the back of his throat. Peeling his eyes open and wincing at the sunlight spilling in through the window only confirmed his hypothesis. His head felt filled with barbed wire and his limbs ached. Hannibal's arm was still around his waist but limp, the man deeply asleep. Will was glad for it so that when he ran to the bathroom and puked in the toilet he didn't feel horrendously embarrassed.

 

Will felt a brief wave of relief and in that moment he found a spare toothbrush from the medicine cabinet above the sink and stole Hannibal's toothpaste. Unfortunately the nausea was unrelenting and Will could feel his stomach cramping up as he knelt by the toilet a second time. Hannibal arrived a few minutes later, wrapped up in his own robe and caringly bundling Will up in a second one. The fabric was soft and warm before his body heat even soaked in and Will pulled it tighter around himself.

 

Hannibal didn't look like he needed to shove Will aside for a turn at the toilet to vomit, but he was definitely still sick. Will could see it in the tense lines at the corners of Hannibal's eyes and mouth, indicating that Hannibal shared the ache of his body, the sore throat and the headache that Will was experiencing. Regardless of his own discomfort, Hannibal leaned against the wall and carded fingers through Will's hair to soothe him until a second, more violent wave of nausea overtook him.

 

"I need to..." Will panted after flushing the contents of his stomach for a second time. "The dogs."

 

"I took the liberty of calling Alana. She will take care of your dogs until you are well enough to return home," Hannibal said. Will was grateful that Hannibal had thought about Will's pack enough to assist with the problem on his own accord. "As I am the less nauseous of the two of us, I will make some toast."

 

Will didn't want Hannibal to go, but he also knew that having some food in his stomach might ease the cramping. Will let Hannibal go begrudgingly and remained by the toilet, though he didn't throw up again. A short while later Hannibal returned, helping Will to stand and supporting his weight when Will's legs ached viciously from his kneeling on the cold tile. There was a bucket Hannibal grabbed from under the sink before he led them both back to bed. A silver serving tray had been set on the bedside table, laden with toast and honey-soaked tea.

 

"I was supposed to be the one taking care of you for a change," Will grumbled as he accepted both a slice of toast and a warm mug of tea. It took a few gulps of the tea to calm his sore throat before he tentatively bit into the toast.

 

"I enjoy taking care of you," Hannibal said easily as he had his own bite of toast. "It has been a long time since I have had something I cared about enough to do so." The words echoed with painful memories Will would ask about, but not when they were both sick and already aching. "And I find it surprisingly pleasant to discover someone able to match and take care of me in return."

 

Will knew that that smile – the one Hannibal was giving him that moment – was important. This was about more than a sharp colleague who could hold a conversation or a caring friend who didn't mind stroking your hair when you were feverish. Neither of their fevers had broken, but these words and implications were serious. Nothing about their kiss last night, sleeping in a shared embrace, or munching on toast together in bed was whimsical.

 

Catching on to Will's train of thought, Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "What will others say, do you think?"

 

Will remembered their exchanged words the night prior and leaned forward to kiss the corner of Hannibal's mouth before smiling around his mug of honeyed tea. "Who cares?"

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/)


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